Every Mother's Son
by 50ftQueenie
Summary: "I wanted to be someone like my brother, like my one and only father, and like every mother's son." Adult language and situations, drug use. Working its way towards an M rating.
1. Chapter 1

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. I'm just screwing around.

**Every Mother's Son**

I wanted to be someone

Like my brother,

Like my one and only father,

And like every mother's son

-The Pretenders

_The prettiest girl in the joint is shooting up between her toes so as not to mar the veins on her lovely arms. It doesn't take long for it to get to her head. She slides out of the booth and stumbles. You are her savior, catching her before she falls. It is your fingers and thumb that will leave marks on her arm. No matter what she does, she can't seem to escape the bruises._

_You have bruises, too, on your ribs and your jaw. You have scars that it seems every woman digs except your mom. She cried when you came home with your cheek slashed open. "What happened to my beautiful boy?" Did you stop being her beautiful boy then? It wasn't like you did it to yourself. Had you stopped being a beautiful boy a long time ago and this is what it took for her to notice?_

_The girl who sticks needles between her toes looks up at you. You are her beautiful boy for an instant. She smiles, but she isn't seeing clearly. Her blurred vision doesn't see the scar or the sharpness in your eyes. She sees warmth in those pools of blue. It's the heat from your hand on her arm as you pull her up, but she can't tell the difference. Maybe it doesn't matter to her. It sure as hell doesn't matter to you. You'll take her misguided adoration._

_Everyone is drinking. Everyone is happy until they're not. Then the firsts fly and the blades come out. The girl screams, although you can't quite believe she's caught off guard. _

_The easy laughter and the warmth generated by the bodies collide with the cool night air when you step outside. Truth told you weren't enjoying yourself until the fight broke out. Perhaps you're more like that junkie girl than you'd like to admit: it takes a little pain to get your blood flowing._

_The shadows from the tall buildings stretch like fingers in the oncoming night. They wrap around your soul and pull you into the fray. _

_When daylight comes- if the shadow fingers don't crush you, maybe they'll drop you down in to the bed of the girl who sticks the needles between her toes. You will read her bruises and tell her the future. She'll read your scars and tell you yours, but you don't think she knows. You know she isn't going to be there..._

I didn't fare as well as cute, little Ponyboy Curtis did with the writing thing. The assignment was a character sketch in five hundred words. I was 93 words short and the content was labeled "inappropriate" by the creative writing teacher, and then "salacious" by the Dean of Students, and then "incendiary" by the chairman of the school board.

I told him, when I stood before the three of them at my expulsion hearing, that I'd always wanted to be incendiary when I grew up. They helped me grow up real fast in those next few minutes by ending my days as a student at Will Rogers High School. They gave me the number of the secretary at the Tech School who administers GEDs and the number of a counselor who might be able to help me with my problem.

They assumed I was the girl- the one shooting up into the veins between her toes. Hardly. I knew her. I'd watched her walk out of Bennies on Tim Shepard's arm and I'd wished I was her. It was something I only dared express under the cloak of creative writing. The guy was a creep and I was a nice girl- if not from a nice family- who had prospects. At least I did until I wrote that character sketch and got tossed out of Will Rogers. Even then, I could still look forward to a future as someone's wife and someone's mother.

I'd been dumped by my boyfriend a couple of weeks before I got dumped by the school. When I got expelled he decided he wanted me back. Maybe that wasn't exactly what made him come looking for me. He'd lost a couple of friends. He was shook up, so maybe he was looking for someone to cling or someone he thought would cling to him. Maybe he thought I'd put out as an expression of my sympathy.

I felt sympathetic. It was horrible what happened. I felt bad for all of them- him, and the Curtis boys, and the rest of their friends. The Curtis boys had been through the wringer already. So had Two-Bit if you wanted to count his dad up and leaving years before.

When he reappeared and asked me if I wanted to go for a drive- which was code for something else- I turned him down. I asked him if he wanted to come in and have a drink and watch me wash dishes. No code there. Writing fiction had gotten me nowhere. Speaking it could only lead to further trouble.

He obliged me. He probably figured that, when the dishes were done, he still had a chance of getting me into his car.

I hated Two-Bit's car. If I'd paid more attention to the condition of that car before he asked me out the first time, I might not have gone out with him. I should have seen that car for the symbol it was- something he used and neglected and then felt betrayed by when it didn't treat him right. Yeah, it was just car, but it had a woman's name: Dottie. I should have caught on quicker how he lumped cars and women together.

I made him sit at the table and watch me while I washed dishes. He seemed confused by it- that I wasn't crawling all over him. He said his car was acting up. He said it was too bad my brother didn't leave me the keys to his when he got sent.

I told him that he had. What- was he going to keep them hid up his ass at McAlester? I had the keys. He just told me not to drive it. I told Two-Bit I was thinking about disobeying my brother's edict and driving that car.

"Sweet ride," Two-Bit said. "Will you give me rides to school?"

"Why would I? I'll no longer be going in that direction."

"Well, what are you going to do all day now?"

"I'm thinking about picking up the rest of what my brother left behind, too. He made it look easy, and he's pretty dumb. I think I could handle it."

"You're serious," Two-Bit said. He laughed that crazy laugh, and that kind of turned me on. He might have had me until he said, "You can't do that, Kath. You can't deal. You're a girl. When did you ever hear of a girl doing that? You know what kind of guys do that kind of shit?"

"Guys like my brother, and I used to share a house with him."

"You can't be serious. You're not serious, right? You're bullshittin' me. Come on, let's go for a ride. I'll let you drive my car. Hey- bring that story that got you thrown out of school. You never did let me read it. I want to know what Haber thinks is salacious."

He couldn't have known, but he drove it home saying all that.

The writing thing was the last straw. I couldn't have anything and they- the boys- could have everything. Except most of them were too lazy or too distracted trying to get laid and avoiding the draft to go after it. I had already decided by the time Two-Bit heard the news about school and showed up at my house that I was going to have everything. I knew how I was going to get it. There was a vacuum to be filled. If he didn't want to come along with me then he could stand back and watch me fly, but I wasn't getting in that fucking car with him.


	2. Chapter 2

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Every Mother's Son- Two**

My brother's Chevy didn't spring right back to life the way I thought it would when I tugged the tarp off of it and turned the key in the ignition. It had been sitting for almost eight months under that tarp in the backyard. When he was around, Cal doted on it every day like it was a prize hunting dog.

When I got it to turn over, I took it down to the service station where Two-Bit's buddy Sodapop worked. He had the place to himself during the day and he'd do favors for friends if he wasn't too busy.

"Cal letting you drive his car?" Soda asked me.

"Is he going to stop me?" I said.

Soda grinned. He said he'd take a look at it if I'd bring him some lunch.

I caved and gaveTwo-Bit rides to school through Thursday. I told him that I wouldn't be able to take him on Friday.

"I'm going to see Calvin."

"In McAlester? You going to drive all that way by yourself?"

"Yeah, and don't worry- I'll come back by myself too."

"I'll go with you if you want. It's a long drive. There's a whole lot of jack shit out there."

I told him thanks, but I was looking forward to a little peace and quiet. He told me that was the perfect drive for it. Gas up before I left Tulsa, he said, and what was I going to do when I ran out of radio signals?

I'd sing to myself, I told him, and I'd see him on Monday.

"Monday, hell," Two-Bit said. "You'd better call me when you get back."

* * *

My brother Calvin was never the brains of any operation he took part in, but he fancied himself an operator. I kept reminding myself of that all the long drive down. I repeated it over and over in my head when I outran the AM signal from Tulsa: _Cal thought he knew how to move dope and look where it got him, and you know even less than he did, Kathy_.

I had plenty of drive-time to think of ways to justify myself. Really, I convinced myself somewhere between the Pittsburgh County line and Ulan, I was doing Cal a favor. If I got rid of all the weed before he got out, he'd have no reason to get back into it. He'd have to start fresh with some new, maybe even legal venture.

All of my good intentions and any semblance of balls I thought I had disappeared when I parked my brother's car in front of the State Prison. I'd never been inside to visit him before. My father had, but he wouldn't take me. McAlester was notoriously overcrowded even then, and my father said it was ripe for an overthrow. He wasn't wrong on that on that, although it took a few more years than he expected. I'd asked a few times, but my father always said the Men's Penitentiary was no place for a lady. He thought he was being funny.

Looking up at the white-washed prison walls, I began to think that a more accurate assessment would have been that this was no place for anyone. The arched sign that hung over the guard station at the entry reminded me of the State Fair, but beyond it the whole place was done up in concentric loops of barbed wire.

Not knowing the exact procedure, I followed a woman with three little kids up to the gate and listened as she told the guard on duty that she was here to see her husband #3658. He gave her a clip board and she signed for herself and the kids.

The youngest of the children must've been two years old. Like me, he seemed struck by the size and the coldness of the place. He didn't make a peep when his mother handed him down to his older sister to carry. He watched me with his big blue eyes. I exchanged glances with the mother for a second when she took the baby back from the girl. Her eyes were brown. I wondered if everyone told the boy that he looked just like his daddy.

The family went on through and I stepped up.

"I'm here to see my brother. I don't know his number. John Calvin Reilly."

The guard nodded and turned away to look up my brother's number in a binder.

"3690," he said to me. He started to hand me the clipboard, but then pulled back. "How old are you, girl?"

"Eighteen," I told him. I reached into my purse for my driver's license anyway. He looked it over and then handed me the clipboard.

"Barely," he said. "But barely counts."

I signed my name next to Calvin's 3690 and thanked the guard. The woman with the kids was still moving slowly towards the main doors. I jogged a few steps to get behind her so that I could follow what she did.

Inside, they took her purse and she signed for it. I gave them mine. I was wearing a jacket and they made me hand that over too. I saw that the woman had prepared for this: she'd made the kids leave their coats in the car.

When told to do so, I stepped back from the guard, raised my hands and turned around. The mother and the kids were doing the same like we were all doing the hokey-pokey. If the kids had ever been amused by this, that time was long gone. They presented themselves with sober, blank faces.

The guard directed us all to sit on a bench while he called for the prisoners. The kids, again, were way ahead of me- already seated with their feet swinging before the words left the guard's mouth. Their mother chose to lean against the wall with her arms folded. I just stood there. I'd been sitting long enough in the car.

When the door to the visiting room opened up, the guard on the inside first called out, "3658," then smiled and said, "Hey, Karen," to the woman.

She managed a smile in return. She called him Reggie. The oldest girl greeted him as Mr. Dutton. They filed inside and out of my sight. I sat down on the bench and waited.

Reggie didn't know me, so he just said, "3690," when he opened the door again. He nodded and I nodded back. Inside, there was a long row of what reminded me of the study carols in detention at Will Rogers. I was directed to the fifth one down. The woman and her kids and I were the only visitors, so they'd placed us as far away from each other as possible. The baby kept peering around the side of the carol at me trying to start a game of peek-a-boo. I played along until a door opened on the other side of the glass and Calvin sat down opposite me.

He grinned when he saw me. He picked up the phone receiver on his side, shaking his head.

"Grand theft'll get you seven to ten, Kit-Kat," he said. "I don't know what's worse- that you stole my car or that you disobeyed Daddy in coming here."

"Daddy's on the road, and your car needed to be run."

"You take 'er to Curtis?"

"Yeah, and he said you should've drained the radiator and the transmission before you let it sit like that."

Calvin smirked. "He's aware that I left in kind of a hurry, isn't he? That dumb little fucker…so, what's got you skipping school and stealing my car to travel all the way down here?"

"I'm not in school anymore."

He raised his eyebrows. "Jesus, is it June already? You graduate?"

"No. It's October, genius. I got thrown out."

"For what? Better be for something good." Cal and my father both always had this double standard when it came to me and school. Neither of them seemed to give a damn if Cal finished or not, and he didn't.

"I wrote a dirty story."

"Okay." He didn't have a come-back for that. He just blinked. "So what else is going on, aside from the car-stealing and the pornography-writing?"

Our time was limited, and Cal was at least enough of a business man to know how to steer the conversation. My being there at all told him something was up. I'd thought about how I was going to address it. I'd heard that the prison bugged the head pieces of the phones. People wrote messages and held them against the glass in the palms of their hands or they developed some kind of code.

"There's a problem with the roof," I told him. He shrugged, so I added, "I'm concerned that it might damage some of the stuff in the attic."

The mention of the attic woke him up. Cal's stash was in the attic. He kept everything up there.

He nodded at me, and I could see him trying to think of how to continue the conversation without giving away what we were really talking about.

"Has anyone come by to look at it- the roof?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

"So, no one's giving you any trouble? No unwelcome offers?"

"No, but I'm worried about me and Dad, I guess. We're a little strapped at the moment. We might not have the cash on hand to fix it if it gets any worse- the leaky roof."

That was an outright lie. Dad and I were fine. He had a gig all spring painting bridges and then he'd work road construction all summer. He was gone a lot, but he made decent money.

"Well, if you wanted someone to come over and take a look at it, you're going to have to call Shepard."

"I didn't realize carpentry was within his repertoire of skills," I said. Everyone knew Shepard didn't deal dope. Aside from beat people up, no one could give you a clear answer exactly what Tim Shepard and his gang did.

"Huh?" Calvin said. _Repertoire_ was a big word for him.

"I didn't know Shepard did that."

"Oh, yeah…well, he doesn't, but he'll hook you up…with a good carpenter. He knows a few."

That was the other thing Tim did: he knew people.

"What about Boone? I thought you and him did some work on the attic together."

Adrian Boone was a buddy of my brother's. I didn't like him, but I knew him better than I knew Tim. I knew I could bat my lashes and boss Adrian around.

Cal shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. He didn't know how to explain Boone within the boundaries of our code.

"Ah, shit, Kathy, Boone's…"He thought some more and then broke out in a grin. "He's under some scrutiny from the union at moment. He's not taking on any new work."

He jerked his head back towards a guard standing by the door back to holding. The "union" he was speaking of was the police.

"I don't know if I trust Shepard with that kind of work. Could I get some estimates?"

Cal burst out laughing at that. He peeked over his shoulder again at the guard- who wasn't paying attention. Then he dropped his voice and told me: "I know how much it's worth. Four hundred. Shepard can charge more if he thinks he can get it, but he'd better not give you a dime less than four hundred for it."

I nodded. He wasn't giving me what I really needed to know. I needed to know how much of a cut Tim would expect for hooking _me_ up with buyers. Cal was under the impression was going to unload the whole thing on Tim.

I figured it out in my head on the way home, though, in the absence of radio. Cal would be expecting four hundred bucks waiting for him under the floor boards when he got out. I needed to make more than that. I figured ten percent for Shepard's help with contacts. I based my final figure and my cut on the only thing I could really think of that I wanted right then: a bus ticket to somewhere and some starter money for college. I figured that- by selling it out in dime bags and joints rather than in one big, brick or whatever it was- I could charge a little extra a skim that off the top for myself.

When I got back to Tulsa, I called Two-Bit and told him I was safely home. He asked if I wanted to go catch a movie, but I told him I couldn't. I had to be up early to take a test. Because money wasn't the only thing I needed if I was going to be a college girl.


	3. Chapter 3

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders. I'm just using them as my personal therapists.

**Every Mother's Son**

Three-

I drove Cal's Chevy down to the Tech School on Saturday morning. I handed my cashier's check to a lady sitting at a desk outside of one of the classrooms. She gave me two pencils and told me I had to keep my purse under my desk.

I was the only one in the room who needed instructions about where to stash my purse. The rest of the GED test-takers were guys- most of them recently drafted- who all need GEDs if they wanted a chance at getting into officer's training.

I finished before any of the rest of them, but I knew enough about myself and tests not to be nervous. It would have been a mistake to start second-guessing and changing my answers. I gave the proctor her pencils back and asked when I could expect the results. She told me two weeks.

The only part I felt shaky on was the math, and even that was pretty elementary. I took a walk across the campus and back to settle my nerves, and then I went home.

Until this point, green as I was to all of it, I hadn't even gone up in the attic myself. When I was a kid, it was my personal princess loft. I played with my dolls up there. It was a tiny space, not much bigger than our bathroom and not insulated. I couldn't play up there at all in the winter, but come spring my dad would do a once-over for wasps and then declare it mine.

I got over dolls and the attic saw a few years of solitude before Cal got into drugs. I referred to it as Cal's Princess Loft after that, and he'd flip me off whenever I said it. If my father ever asked, I'd tell him Cal was playing with dolls up there which I think my father took to mean "playing with himself". He didn't ask any further questions.

I had to get a chair to stand on to fish the pull-cord down from the ceiling. My brother had stuffed the cord up into the stairs themselves as though he could make them disappear into the ceiling. Like no one looking at the house from the outside could see that there was a window to an attic.

When I found the cord and yanked, the hatch opened and the ladder flew out nearly knocking me over with it. Then came the dust. I stood on the chair, leaning back against the wall, coughing. Maybe I should have taken it as an omen. I couldn't handle a simple ladder without nearly getting knocked on my ass.

I climbed on up anyway. At first I was stunned by a wave of nostalgia. The smell made me think of my dolls and then all the other things that existed in the house before my mother left. I knew some of those things- some clothes, photographs, her sewing machine- were still up here. As a kid, when it was still too soon after her departure, I never went looking. Now, all these years later, I felt myself getting derailed by my curiosity.

Seems Cal had been unable to restrain himself. The metal casing had been removed from the sewing machine. I guess I knew about that- he'd taken it apart and one of his buddies made a tattoo needle out of it. This was the first time I'd actually seen it all laid to waste in front of me.

To add insult to injury, Calvin had chosen my dollhouse as the storage facility for what was left of his business venture: the little scale shoved into the bathroom, two fair-sized bricks wrapped in plastic inside the living room. Papers and baggies and something wrapped up in a bandana in the children's bedroom. I wondered where the dollhouse furniture had gone.

I picked up the bandana, but it was heavier than I expected and the contents slipped out on to the floor. The gun hit the subfloor and spun like it was playing a game of chicken all by itself. I jumped and cursed when I saw it. I'd held a gun once before in my life, under very controlled conditions: my brother and his friends shooting at cans and rats in the alley behind the house. He handed it to me and held my arm to aim it. Even still, I missed the beer bottle on our neighbor's fence. One of his friends had laughed and said I must have gotten my dead-eye from my brother, and- come here, honey- I'll show you how to do it right. If my brother couldn't hit a barn with a bullet, he could shut his friend down with a single look. The offer of shooting lessons was retracted.

I didn't even know if this gun was loaded. It was a six-shooter with a cylinder and not a clip. That's about as far as my knowledge took me. I picked it up with the bandana- like I was handling evidence- and held it at arm's length. Loaded. My brother was such an asshole.

I sat down on the floor and lay the gun back in my doll's former living room. I stared at the contents of the dollhouse for a couple of minutes. I reached out and poked at the pot. It felt dry, but it didn't disintegrate under my touch either. I rummaged through the other dollhouse rooms until I found a tin cigarette case full of joints.

My father still rolled cigarettes, so I knew how to roll. He taught me how, in fact, when I was five or six. The first one I made him was light on tobacco and went up in flames when he lit it. He never let me live it down.

I found a lighter in with the papers. I figured it if I lit up and the same thing happened to me, the weed was too dried out and then my whole adventure would be done with. No such luck. Cal knew how to roll, too, and the attic hadn't gotten too dry over the winter.

I'd only done this a couple of times before. Maybe I didn't know how to breathe, but I didn't get stoned easy. My brother was proud of this, and it was the only reason he'd let me smoke around his friends. He figured I never got squirrily enough for them to pull anything with me. I figured I was still safe, then, if I smoked a little before my business meeting with Tim Shepard.

Aside from the obvious potential for trouble with the law, the only things standing in my way was my own morality and the Shepard gang. My morality sunk like a stone after I got thrown out of school over 493 words about my schoolgirl crush. The object of my teenage lust himself was going to be more difficult to maneuver.

Half the reason I preferred of ogle Shepard from a distance was that he was famous for being such a pain in the ass up close. He was good to look at, but impossible to have a conversation with. He was as much a control freak as any two-year old. He didn't like to share what was his, and- like a two-year old- every damned thing that passed through Tim's line of sight was his.

* * *

_How does your mind work? Is it anger that makes you tick, like everyone says? "Sing, goddess, of the rage of Achilles…" Or are you a quiet, thoughtful boy in warrior's clothes? When you walk down the street, what song plays in your head? Is there a song playing or is there music at all? Maybe it's just blind, angry static._

I remembered that part- a paragraph that I cut out from my character sketch because I thought it was too overblown- as I pulled up in front of the Shepard house.

If the legend of the Tim Shepard was over-the-top, the reality was equally bizarre. He answered the door in his bare feet. His flannel shirt hung open. He was drinking something out of a fruit jar. Behind him, I could hear The Kinks playing on a record player. I hmmm'd at the choice of music: one step cooler and- at the time- way more politically aware than the Beatles. I would have expected Elvis or Waylon Jennings.

He blinked at me standing there in the sunshine. He looked hung over. He mumbled something through the unlit cigarette in his mouth and stood back. I could only guess I was being beckoned to come in.

I stepped up and in to the Shepard house. Looking around, it was clear that the adult presence was minimal, if there was any adult presence at all besides Tim. The carpet was matted and all the shades were pulled. When he shut the front door, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light. My heart caught in my throat when Tim swept up behind me and then brushed on past.

"You want a drink?" I saw his silhouetted arm raise the jar at me.

"I'm good," I replied, and I'm sure I heard him mumble, "Not what I heard."

He returned from the kitchen with a lighter and gestured for me to sit down. I didn't want to sit on anything, but I didn't figure I'd better turn his hospitality down twice either. I sat in the center of the sofa and he sat across from me in a tortured arm chair.

"So, what's up with Calvin?" He asked.

It sounded like a friendly question, but I knew Cal and Tim were never friendly. They tolerated one another, saw the benefit keeping each other as business associates. They didn't hang out.

"When Calvin went away, he left some unfinished business. I need to finish it. It's no good just sitting in the house."

I wished right away I hadn't said that. With Calvin away and Boone lying low, what was to stop Tim from robbing my house?

"How much unfinished business are we talking?" Tim asked me.

"I'm not sure. That's what I need you for. I need you to tell me what it's worth."

"And then get rid of it for you? 'Cause that's going to cost you. I don't usually deal in that shit, little girl."

I shook my head. "I'll get rid of it. I just need to know what I should be expecting to get."

Tim took a drink from his jar. I could see he was doing it to hide a smile.

"You're going to get rid of it? To who? Who are you dealing to?"

When I didn't say anything, he smirked, took a drag on his cigarette and then said through the smoke, "I suppose you need me to tell you that, too."

"I'm sure I can find people who want to buy pot. Like your little sister, for example."

I could tell that pissed him off because he leaned back in his chair and grinned.

"Miss Kathy Reilly, selling dope to school children. Your brother never even sank that low. I guess we'll have something to discuss on the way back to your place. I'm going to need to see it, babe. Let's go take a look."

I must have smirked at him. He didn't look ready to go anywhere. He stood up though, and snapped a couple of snaps on his shirt just to prove me wrong.

"Hey, turn that shit off, will ya?" He shouted over his shoulder as whoever was listening to The Kinks, shattering my illusion that it might have been him.

"Why don't you kiss my ass?" Came the reply.

Tim rolled his eyes at me. He shook his head, looked tired, and then his whole demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. It was like watching a phoenix rise. He turned towards the voice at the back of the house and took a step in that direction. He didn't go any farther than the hall, but he reached up and pounded on the doorframe with his fist and the whole room rattled.

"You need some help, fucker? 'Cause may God help you if I got to come in there. Turn it off and get out here. We got to go."

A wave of panic hit me. He was talking to Curly and they were both coming with me. Not that I had any delusions that I could fight Tim off myself if he wanted to give me one, but the idea of being alone with the two of them terrified me.

"I don't need his help. This is just you and me," I said. I improvised and added, "Cal said just you."

"Cal thinks he's calling the shots long-distance? Cal can eat my ass, darling. Curly ain't going to hurt nothing. He needs to learn these things. Think of him like an apprentice. He'll keep his mouth shut…"

Curly appeared then, and Tim clapped him on the back of the head as he walked by.

"Won't you, little man?"

Curly gave Tim the finger and went in to the kitchen.

"He's a little rough around the edges," Tim said to me. "But he has so much potential. Seems you two have that in common."


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own the Outsiders or the Shepard family.

**Every Mother's Son- Four**

Little Curly Shepard: all grown up, fresh out of the reformatory, and bouncing around in the back seat behind me.

We had another thing in common- Curly and I: we were both waiting on eggshells for Tim to tell us what to do next. Curly seemed energized by the thought of it. I was getting more and more nervous with each passing city block.

"Christ, where do you live?" Curly asked.

"On Haskell. Just a couple of blocks out of Greenwood."

"That's off of Tiber Street," Curly said. "Tim, are we going on to Tiger Turf?"

"Lions, and Tigers, and bears- oh my," Tim said in a flat voice. "Yeah- what of it? Her brother's clearly out of commission. Boone's hiding under a rock somewhere…"

Curly snorted a little at the mention of Adrian Boone. I didn't have to ask: the extra police attention on Boone was no doubt courtesy of the Shepard brothers.

"Yeah, I ain't seen Boone lately," Curly said. He sat still behind me now, feeling more confident. I could tell he was grinning without looking back at him in the rearview.

"When's the last time you saw Boone, Kathy?" Tim asked.

I shrugged. I couldn't remember. He had no reason to be at our place with Cal locked up. He came around once when he heard the rumors that Two-Bit and I split. I told him I was taking a break from relationships to reflect and meditate. He told me to give him a call, that he could help me get mellow. I told him I didn't think I'd need any help with that.

"Before the thing with Dallas," I said.

The mention of Dallas Winston shut Tim up.

Curly said, "Shit, that's while I was in. That was a while ago."

Neither Tim nor I replied because it was a stupid thing to say. For a long time after it happened, all of us with any connection to Dally and his friends calculated time by before Dally and after Dally. It might have had less of an impact on Curly being as he was locked up at the time, and being that he was just Curly. Tim, I could see from the corner of my eye, was simmering just at the mention of Dally's name.

When we got to my street, I brought the car in through the alley and parked it in the back yard. Tim was amused by this.

"Don't want to be seen on the street with me, huh?"

"No, I don't," I told him.

I took the Shepards in through the back and told them to sit down in the kitchen. I took Cal's weed out from under the sink and set it on the table between them.

"You shouldn't keep it under there," Tim told me. "Might be damp."

"That's not where I keep it," I said and he nodded, grinning.

He unwrapped each one and took it out of the plastic. Curly squirmed in his chair. I thought about offering him a Coke, but he was so trained in on Tim that I wasn't sure he'd answer me.

"You try any of it?" Tim asked me.

I nodded, but didn't tell him it was right before I'd picked them up. He raised his eyebrows but didn't all-the-way look up at me.

"Any good?"

"Good enough," I said. I wasn't breaking down in tears at the prospect of being alone in my house with him in his little brother so I figured it was doing its job.

Tim shrugged and set the pot down. He slid it across the table to Curly and motioned for him to wrap it back up.

"Two, maybe two-fifty each," he said. "More if you parcel it out, but…I'm sure you know that. Me and this guy can set you up with a couple of guys who'll take it in dimes. We'll be needing fifteen percent of your take."

"Ten," I said.

I didn't look away from Tim, but I could feel Curly stop fidgeting and look up. Whether he was looking in awe at me or in anticipation at his brother, I didn't know. Tim suppressed a laugh and shook his head.

"Cal tell you that too, baby?"

"Cal told me to call Adrian. I'd prefer to work with you. Adrian'll do it for ten."

"And a blow job for each dime bag. Your brother's a very trusting soul for con. He really believe Boone's going to play all chivalrous while he's locked and can't do anything about it? Go on and take it to Boone, honey, and see what kind of gratuity he has in mind."

"Can I use your bathroom?" Curly broke in. His voice didn't register with either me or Tim for a second. When it did, Tim looked at him like he was out of his mind. I shrugged and told him it was next to the back door where we came in.

Curly exited and Tim reclined in his chair. He leaned back on its two feet and tried a different tactic.

"Clearly," he said, gesturing in the direction Curly went, "I'm the responsible party between us. I am for both of them- him and Angel. Who you got to be putting food out for?"

He was trying to guilt-trip me. He wasn't giving me any big ole puppy dog eyes or poking his bottom lip out, but it was an attempt to tug at my heartstrings alright. Tim wanted that extra five percent, he'd have me believe, because he was trying to keep Curly and Angela fed.

"I told you," I said. "Cal told me what to offer. I got him to answer to when he gets out. And he _is_ talking to Boone. He'll find out, Shepard, and when he's done with me he'll come looking for you…and Curly and Angela."

As much as I didn't believe his sob story, Tim's eyes sure clouded over when I included his brother and sister in my empty lie of a threat. He held my gaze just long enough to hypnotize me with those eyes of his and then he slapped his hand down on the table. I shuddered.

"Curly," he shouted. "You fall in or what? We're going."

He stood up and I stood up with him even though my heart was still pounding from his rattling the table.

"No, please. We'll find a ride," he said and headed for the front door. I followed him. Curly was by the door waiting. His eyes were as big and wide as I'm sure mine must have been.

Tim stalked out the door and Curly followed. As he passed me, Curly clapped me on the arm and then dropped his hand to squeeze something in to mine. I didn't open my hand until they were gone out of sight into the alley.

With the door shut and locked, I opened up the piece of a matchbook that Curly had pressed into my hand. In my own eyeliner that he'd found in the cupboard above the sink, he'd written:

_I'm in. 10%._

* * *

How many times can I say it: I should've known better. Tim and Curly weren't gone fifteen minutes when Adrian Boone came knocking on my door. I wanted to ask if he'd been sitting across the street in a tree, but I chose to keep my mouth shut. I set my jaw and looked up at him, doing my best to project annoyance.

"Busy, Kathy?" He asked.

"Cal ain't here. Two-Bit ain't here. My old man ain't here, Boone. Therefore, it ain't entirely appropriate that you're here. You ain't coming in. What do you want?"

"But Tim and Curly get to come in?"

"How would you know that?"

He shifted in the doorway and I half-expected him to shove me inside. I planted my feet in the rug. He smirked.

"I told Cal I'd look out for you. I was looking out."

"What- you've been parked outside my house? That's just creepy, Boone."

"Not like I been watching you shower," he said. His eyes wandered for a second, like he was considering how he could make that happen.

"Do you go down to visit him?" I asked.

"I have, a couple of times."

"Well, ask him next time you do- I'll tell him to call you off."

"Yeah, I'll ask him about Shepard too."

"Please do."

"I will."

"Is there anything else, Boone?"

He grinned at me. He plucked down the cigarette tucked behind his ear.

"You give any thought to my other offer?" He was referring to the date.

"Nope, not an iota. Mail's here," I told him and nodded towards the mailman coming up the walk. Cal stepped aside in silence, probably pondering what the hell an iota was. The mailman handed me a couple of pieces, exchanged a concerned _do you want me to call someone_ glance with me and then carried on his way when I smiled.

I was smiling at one of the pieces of mail he'd handed me. It was a postcard from the secretary at Tulsa Tech. She'd written _Looks good! Certificate on its way!_ on it.

"Boone, I got to go," I told him. I turned around and shut the door on him before he could reach out to stop it from closing.

This was the moment when my conscious first began to show itself. It was the first time- since the whole thing started- where I did something that I felt truly wrong about. It's not like a killed anyone, or sold weed to Angela Shepard, but I did something to save my own ass, and I used someone I knew cared about me to do it.

I left Adrian Boone standing on the porch and went to the phone. I called Two-Bit.

"What're you doing?"

"Right now?" He asked and giggled that squirrelly giggle of his. "You really want an answer to that?"

"That's answer enough right there. What are you doing tonight?"

"I thought you'd sworn off seeing me after sundown. What's the occasion?"

"I passed my GED. I'm a high school graduate."

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, and I got the feeling it bothered him a little. Two-Bit had another year and a half before he graduated if he stayed the course. He wouldn't graduate high school until he was twenty. He claimed to like school. He went for the entertainment factor, he said. My being done seemed to have drained the life right out of it for him.

"Come on," I said. "Celebrate with me."

"What kind of celebration?"

"I don't know. Whatever it is, it's on me. Just let's do something tonight."

And what I meant was let's do something public. I needed Two-Bit now to make me look unavailable. If I wasn't single, I figured, Boone would lose interest no matter what my brother's orders were. I needed a boyfriend, and Two-Bit was ready and willing. I had the rest of the afternoon to make myself feel good about it.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't own SE Hinton, her twitter page, or The Outsiders.

**Every Mother's Son- Five**

Curly wasn't altogether stupid. It wasn't 10% off the top he wanted. He wanted 10% of my actual take. He'd been listening to me and Tim bickering, and he knew that the possibility was there for him to make more than just forty or fifty bucks.

He also wasn't altogether smooth. When he saw me halfway across the crowded Admiral Twin lot, he waved. I had no choice but to wave back. I needed him to know that I did want to talk to him, that I wasn't blowing him off.

Two-Bit asked me, "Who're you waving at? Is that Shepard?"

"Shepard Junior," I said.

Two-Bit furrowed his brow and smirked at me.

"What? He waved at me and I waved back. What do you do when someone waves at you?"

"When Curly Shepard waves to me, I typically just wave back with one finger," he said.

"Well, maybe that's why he's waving at me and not you."

I made a face at Two-Bit and he made it back. He made an overly-dramatic display of offering me his arm. I couldn't help but laugh. I hooked my arm in his. Seems like I couldn't stop myself from doing that either.

"You want to go say a proper hello?" He asked me.

"To Curly? No, I came here to see a movie. Let's go watch a movie."

I knew from experience that Two-Bit never came to the Admiral Twin to watch the movie. Typically, he tossed back a few before he got there and then spent the duration harassing the people who did come to watch what was playing.

I was one of those people barely six months ago. I'd seen Two-Bit around school, but my brother and his associates kept a pretty close watch on me. I got away from them one night at the drive-in and fell into Two-Bit's trap.

We passed each other about six times just walking around. Every time, he'd give me a little bow, offer his hand and say, "Keith Mathews- I'm running for senate" and then "Keith Mathews- have you accepted Jesus Christ as your savior".

About the seventh time, I shook his hand in return and said, "Kathy Reilly- my brother's going to string you up if you don't quit holding my hand."

He broke out in a full grin then and his eyes turned mischievous.

"I ain't been holding your hand, Reilly. I was _shaking_ your hand. You want to hold hands, though, I can show you how that works."

He didn't let go of my hand and I didn't try to get away. Not from him, anyway. We looked at each other and then we both looked around for Cal, and then we took off from the drive-in and walked around Tulsa half the night. I don't know where Two-Bit's car was or what its problem was that evening. We must have walked for miles.

On this night, however, his car was in working order and rumbling- if not purring- along. We'd left it to go get sodas. This fit right in line with my need to be seen with Two-Bit. Curly Shepard had seen us, at least. Mission accomplished.

We got back to Two-Bit's car and he hesitated at the passenger side.

"Front or back?" He asked, unsure which door to open.

I pointed at the screen where the previews were just beginning. He opened the front door for me and I got in.

"I don't even know what the movie is," he said when he got in beside me. "Ain't every day when a girl asks me out. Figured I had better not blow it."

"Didn't figure on watching the movie either, did you? It's a space movie. It's got Raquel Welch in it. You'll be fine."

He nods in agreement. "Raquel Welch in zero gravity. I got no quarrel with that."

He reached in front of me to open the glove compartment. He'd stashed about three cans of Grain Belt in there. He offered me one, and I shook my head. He kept it for himself and slammed the glove compartment shut. Then he sat back and stretched his arm around my shoulders as if we'd been doing this every Thursday night for a hundred years.

I elbowed him in the ribs.

"I got to go to the little girl's room," I told him.

He frowned, but he pulled his arm away. I could feel him watching me as I walked away from the car, probably in the side mirror. He wasn't watching me because I looked so damned hot either, although I'd taken plenty of care to at least put myself in the neighborhood of striking. He was still frowning- I could feel those eyes on my back. I'd made him suspicious.

Knowing that, I almost went to the restroom like I said I was going to. Maybe playing it cool for a night was what was called for. Maybe I even ought to be giving Two-Bit a serious chance. Before I could convince myself to do the right thing and just go on the date, Curly found me.

"'S up?" He said.

I jumped a little. He nudged my arm with his.

"Buy me some popcorn."

"Buy your own damned popcorn," I told him.

"Come on, I'm hungry."

"According to Tim, he's responsible for your care and feeding."

"Yeah, hell of a job he's doing there. I'm still hungry," he said. I followed him to the concession stand. I half-believed Curly really was that hungry. When we got to the concessions, though, I told him to wait outside for me.

He shrugged and flipped a cigarette into his mouth. He seemed impressed with himself for catching it. Satisfied that he was distracted, I left him standing there.

When I returned, he'd smoked it down and was playing with his lighter.

"Enjoy," I said and shoved the bag of popcorn at him. "This really isn't the time or place…"

"Yeah, I know. I just figured maybe we could establish the time and place. You ain't in school anymore, are you?"

I shook my head.

"Me neither. I got me a pretty open schedule all day. Except when I'm asleep."

I had to smile at that. "What about Tim?"

"Tim don't need me for nothing usually until after dark." His voice dropped a little and he looked away from me across the drive-in. "If then."

"Okay," I said. "What are your mornings like?"

"That's usually when I'm sleeping. What are your afternoons like? And before you answer- I ain't coming to your house anymore. Your neighborhood is like some kind of western front, man."

"More of a Northern front," I told him. He frowned and I said, "It's north of your neighborhood…That's fine, Curly. Where's a safe place? I'll buy you lunch. You like barbeque?"

He shrugged. I got the impression Curly would eat just about anything.

"Okay, about three blocks west of my place, there's this barbeque joint called Maybelle's. No one from your brother's or my brother's gang goes there. My dad likes it…"

"No one goes there because it's in Greenwood, Kathy," he said. "It's all blacks there."

"Look at me, genius. Do I look like my dad's black to you? I said my dad goes there. It's a cool place. Just don't run your mouth about everyone being black and it'll be fine. Tomorrow at one o'clock. That give you enough time for your beauty sleep?"

"I guess." He still looked concerned. "Christ…"

And this was when he laid out the nature of his demands: not ten off the top, ten of the take. He was going against Tim here. I needed to make it worth his while.

"We'll talk tomorrow," I told him. "Why are you going against Tim anyway?"

He stuffed some popcorn in his mouth and made me wait for it while he chewed. Maybe he didn't have the answer all the way together in his head yet either because all he said was:

"We'll talk tomorrow."

"Talk about what? Don't you got school tomorrow, Curly?"

And there was Two-Bit, proving to me for all time that I should always trust my gut. I knew he was watching me when I left the car; I should've guessed he'd follow me.

Before either Curly or I could answer, Two-Bit said, "I'm a little baffled here, Kath. I mean, I guess you're all mature and liberated since you got your GED, but how many guys are you planning on dating at once?"

Even though it was obvious, I still felt like I was hurting Curly or embarrassing him when I insisted, "He and I ain't going on a date."

Curly shrugged at Two-Bit and ate more popcorn.

"He needs some help with school. We all know I have sort of a flair for writing…"

Two-Bit laughed at that: "Okay, just quit while you're ahead, Kathy. First, your flair for writing got you expelled. Even I ain't going to ask you for help with writing at this point. Second, he's going to skip school to get help with his schoolwork?"

"I'm just that desperate," Curly said with his mouth full.

"Not as desperate as she is," Two-Bit said.

"Hey, what the fuck-" Curly took a step towards Two-Bit but then stopped short of getting right in his face and said, "Tim."

I turned in the direction Curly was looking and saw Tim coming towards us. His hands were at his sides- ready to reach for a blade- and his head was cocked back. Two-Bit give Curly a shove for good measure. They were opposite ends of a behavioral spectrum, but pretty evenly matched- Two-Bit wasn't afraid of Tim.

"Evening," Tim said when he reached us.

"Yes, it is," Two-Bit replied.

"My little brother harassing your date?"

"As a matter of fact…" Two-Bit began, but Tim cut him off.

"I was talking to Reilly."

"No, your little brother's just eating his popcorn," I said. I looked Tim over. His stance changed when he spoke to me. It was subtle, but it was there- the slightest drop in his guard. Among the three of us yahoos- me, Curly, and Two-Bit- he considered me to be the only one worth speaking to. My answer made him smile just a little.

"And we were just leaving," Two-Bit told him, jerking me by the arm.

"Damned shame," Tim said. He gave me a little frown as Two-Bit yanked me on by- a signal that he wanted to know if I was alright with being yanked and that he'd do something about it if I wasn't. I rolled my eyes at him. Fucking Tim- a few hours ago he was throwing a fit and trying to shake me up in my own house. Now he wanted to protect me. He thought he got to lord over everyone, feed everyone, make the world a safer place. What did he know? He didn't even control his own brother anymore.

* * *

I decided to beat Two-Bit to it when we reached the car. He opened the front door for me this time without hesitation. Getting in the back was no longer an option.

"You want to go?" I asked him before I got in.

"Why? Do you need to get home? You got something else lined up?"

"Are you kidding me, Two-Bit? Curly Shepard is fifteen years old. Is that even legal?"

He shrugged. "Way you been talking, legal is becoming less and less a concern for you."

"Of all people, it surprises me that you have a problem with that."

"Meaning?"

I got in the car and he slammed the door hard. He got in behind the wheel and said, "Meaning?" again like I'd forgotten what we were talking about in the last seven seconds.

"Meaning…" I gestured with my hands. "You're always stealing stuff. You've been locked up a couple of times. Where'd you get that beer? You ain't old enough to buy it."

"My mom buys it, and give me one of them," He pointed to the glove compartment and then jammed the key in the ignition.

"Let me drive then," I said.

"Fuck…" He moaned and then reached past me and got the beer himself. I didn't protest. I took the remaining beer for myself.

"I don't know why I thought this would work," he said, steering the car towards the drive-in exit. "You always got to take things so serious. You can't just have a little fun."

"What are you even talking about? You're the one accusing me of playing the field. Isn't that fun? Isn't that not-so-serious?"

He raised his eyebrow and thought on that. He bit his lip and concentrated as he drove through a pack of middle school kids and got us beyond the gates of the Admiral Twin.

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I meant can't we just have a little fun? Can't you just have a little fun with _me_? You said we were going to go celebrate. How is setting up a study date with Curly…like I believe for a minute that's what was going on back there…how is that celebrating?"

"Fine," I said. "I forgot. We're celebrating. What time is it?"

"Too early for after-hours."

We couldn't get in to bars back then. We had to wait for the after-hours clubs, like Buck Merrill's, to open up when the bars closed.

"You hungry?" I asked him.

"No."

"You want to fool around?" Jesus, I couldn't believe I said that. Neither could Two-Bit.

"Serious? Did you just say that?"

"Well, that pretty much exhausts our entertainment options. Movie, drinking, catch a burger, or make out. You got any other ideas?"

"No," he said. His voice got almost timid. "I like the last one."

Again, I couldn't believe it was me saying it: "Fine, let's just go back to my place then."

Maybe Adrian Boone would be sitting in the tree perch I'd imagined for him. He'd see me with Two-Bit and give up on whatever his designs were for me. Or he'd go scurrying straight down to McAlister and tell my brother, who would order him to kill Two-Bit and me both. I decided maybe I should at least warn Two-Bit.

"You know Cal's got Boone watching me," I said.

"Then I'll park around the corner and we'll walk up the alley," he replied. Now that I'd put the thought in his head, he was going to be like James Bond about making it happen.


	6. Chapter 6

Nope, don't own The Outsiders

**Every Mother's Son- Six**

God bless Adrian Boone- the man was nothing if not tenacious. He wasn't even waiting in a tree when Two-Bit and I got to my house. He was sitting on the front steps. The door behind him was open leaving no doubt that he'd already been in the house. If he was still there then he hadn't found what he wanted. If he'd found his way in once, though, he could do it again.

"Damnit," I said. "Is this is what it's like to be one of the popular girls?"

"So, my place?" Two-Bit replied. He may have been willing to poke the Shepard bear, but defending my honor against Adrian was a whole 'nuther matter. By Two-Bit's standards my brother's entire gang were psychopaths.

Two-Bit made a u-turn and we drove away. We never looked back to see if Boone had spotted us.

"I don't suppose you want to call him in for b-and-e?" Two-Bit asked me.

I shook my head. "Not if what he was after is still in there. He sort of has me over a barrel."

"Damn him. I wanted to have you over a barrel."

I rolled my eyes, but tipped my half-empty can of Grain Belt towards him.

"Now you're starting to sound celebratory," I told him.

I leaned back against Two-Bit's shoulder so that he couldn't watch my face as he drove. I wanted to look tough, but I didn't feel tough. That's how Two-Bit would pull it off- he'd crack a joke, have a drink, and lean on something. Maybe I was fooling him with his own game and maybe I wasn't.

His sister was home when we got to his place so there was no sneaking off to his room. We sat on the couch and fumbled at each other under a blanket until Darla went to bed.

"Now what?" He asked me.

I squinted and tried to look uncomfortable. I gave him a line about it being that time of the month.

Two-Bit was suspicious. "You were the one who suggested fooling around."

"I didn't say we ought to get naked."

He shrugged. "You got to sleep here. You can't go back there with Boone hanging around. You want me to round up the boys and take care of that?"

"I'll talk to Calvin. You don't want to mess with Boone. I don't want those little Curtis boys getting tangled up with him."

Two-Bit nodded. He laid back on the couch and pulled me down with him. I folded my arms on his chest and rested my chin there. He cocked his eyebrow at me.

"You just really don't want to do this, do you?"

I shrugged.

"Then just say that," he said. "I ain't some kind of wild animal. Not like that one that's sitting on your porch anyway. Or the ones at the drive-in, for that matter."

I rolled my eyes.

"Just say it," he told me. "Just tell me the truth and I'll let you have the bed."

The real truth was that I didn't know what I wanted right then. It felt good to be safe- to have someone to drive me away into the night when the Big Bad Wolf was at my door. It felt good to not be alone. I'd been getting too used to that with my dad and my brother gone.

Yesterday, I'd figured I'd transcended Two-Bit and boys like him because I was no longer a high school kid. Right now that old, nonstop soap opera vibe seemed pretty inviting.

I thought about Cal's gun in the attic- the perfect symbol of how caught between two worlds I was. I had the tools to fight my fight, but I had no idea how to use them. Even more so, I wasn't any more willing to use them than I was willing to give it up to Two-Bit.

"You can have the bed," I told him. "Or we can both sleep here."

Which is what we did, and in the morning he drove me home before we went to school. Boone was gone, but the door was still open.

* * *

That was the day I started carrying the gun. I brought it down from the attic and set it on the kitchen table. I looked at it for a long time and then I snapped the cylinder and unloaded it. I flicked my wrist back and forth a few times until I got the hang of opening and shutting the cylinder. It seemed clean; everything moved smoothly- everything except the trigger. I didn't have the guts to try that. I reloaded it and set it back on the table.

I put it in my purse when I left the house to pick up Curly. Somehow, my purse didn't seem stable enough to carry it. I put it in the glove compartment. I wondered where Tim Shepard kept his when he was out driving around. Everyone knew he had one.

I watched Curly Shepard come up the street towards Maybelle's. He couldn't have looked more suspicious. He looked over his shoulder about every three steps and said "hi" to everyone he passed. He blinked when he said it like he was expecting to get slapped.

Just to see him jump, I hit the horn when he got up next to the car. He jumped alright, and then he called me a couple of names and hopped in beside me.

"You can go straight to hell, Kathy," he said. "That ain't even right."

I told him: "You're in luck, Curly. Today is not the day you desegregate Maybelle's. I need to take a ride. If you want to talk business, you're coming with me."

"Where're we going?"

"I need to go to McAlester and have a talk with my brother."

"Are you shittin' me? That's like…"

"It'll take all afternoon, but look-" I jerked my head towards the backseat. "I brought snacks."

I'd beat him to Maybelle's and bought us lunch. The lady behind the counter had asked me about my father and shouted my answers back to the cook in the kitchen. When my order was ready, he came out and told me to give my regards to Jay when I heard from him. I told him my dad called every Sunday night and I'd sure tell him hello.

Curly looked reluctant, like he was afraid the pulled pork in the white bags might bite him if he reached for it. I reached back and brought it up to us.

"Ever been to McAlester?" I asked him.

"I'm only fifteen. I just go to the reformatory," he said, not understanding what I was asking.

"Well, think of this as a preventative visit- like a warning of what could become of you."

He grinned then and snatched his sandwich from me.

"You mean if I keep hanging out with girls like you?" He said.

We argued about music most of the way to McAlester. I let him drive for a half hour while I catnapped. We both knew we were saving the real discussion for the way back. As far as I was concerned there was no discussion to be had- I was in charge and he could take it or leave it that way. As far as he was concerned, there was no discussion because he was already under my skin if I was buying him food and letting him drive.

* * *

I parked the car in the prison lot and told Curly to wait for me. He laughed and said _no shit he wasn't getting out of the car_.

I went through the intake more quickly and with confidence this time. When my brother slide into his chair on the other side of the glass from me, I spoke to him before he had a chance to crack wise to me.

"Call Boone off, Calvin."

He still had to get one in: "Call Boone 'off'? Can't I just call him Boone like always?"

"You know what I mean, dumb ass. He's always around and it's giving me the creeps. He broke into the house."

Cal sat up straight and then leaned in towards me again.

"Wait, what now? What's he doing in the house?"

"I would guess he's looking around in the attic," I said. "He said he'd been down to see you and you told him to look out for me. I guess he couldn't find me and thought the attic would be the place to look."

"Uh-uh…" Cal shook his head. "Boone ain't been to see me. Only people's been to see me is you, Daddy, and them Bible-beaters who want me to resign my worthless soul over to the Great Mystery beyond these walls…whatever…I didn't tell Boone nothing 'cause I ain't seen Boone. He broke into the house?"

I just nodded. I should've known. Now I was scared, but not so much as Boone as I was of Cal right then. He couldn't sit still now. He kept running his fingers through his hair. He looked like he was going to explode right through the ceiling.

"Maybe that's not what he meant," I said. "Maybe I misheard him- he didn't say he'd been to see you, he just meant…"

"Did you mishear him breaking into the house? How do you know he broke in?"

I shook my head. "He was sitting on the porch last night when I got home. The door was open."

I should have lied. Calvin was going to blow a gasket and get himself put in restraints. He had friends- connections. He was going to send someone after Boone and start a war.

"Calvin, it's alright," I said. "I'll take care of it. I'll give him the…I'll give him what he wants…"

Calvin's eyes widened. "The hell you will. If he so much as touches you…"

"Not that. He wants…he wants to do the work on the attic. I guess he needs work. I'll let him do it, and then he'll go away. Two-Bit's around. I'm with Two-Bit again. I won't ever be alone with Boone."

"Two-Bit? Mathews?" Cal said, like there might be more than one Two-Bit. "Shit, Kathy. He's okay, but you really think he's going to scare off Adrian…shit…"

He pushed his hair back again. It needed to be cut. If he'd had a can of Dixie Peach in there, it would've stayed in place. As it was, it kept fluttering down into his eyes. He caught me watching him and waiting. He stopped fidgeting and drummed his fingers on the counter.

"Nah, I'll take care of it," he said. Before I could argue, he raised his hand for the guard.

"Calvin!" I almost shouted. "Who's going to take care of it? Someone just as shady as Boone? Who are you sending…What's going to happen?"

The guard was already behind him. Calvin stood up and shook his head at me.

"Can you go stay with Two-Bit? Or…shit, don't you have girl friends? Have yourself a sleep-over somewhere. I'll call you on…" He turned to the guard to ask when he got his next phone call. "I'll call you on Thursday."

I just sat in the chair for a minute after Calvin was ushered out. I was outside and halfway across the parking lot before I remembered that Curly was in the car.

He wasn't actually in the car anymore. It must've gotten too confining for him. He was leaning up against the door, smoking a cigarette.

"Didn't hear what you wanted to hear?" He asked me.

I shook my head and motioned to the car.

The radio was so loud it scared me when I turned on the ignition. I turned it all the way off.

Curly squirmed beside me. I could feel his wide eyes searching my face- the same way he'd done with Tim on the ride from their house to mine. It was taking everything he had, but he was going to keep his mouth shut and wait for my direction.

"I need a place to stay," I said, more to myself then to him.

"I don't think you can stay at our house," he began. "I mean, sometimes Tim let's girls stay over, but him and Ma always get in a fight about. Some friend of Angel's lived in her room for a week because she ran away from her stepdad, and…"

"Not at your house, Curly. Do you know of anything, though?"

"I usually just crash on Ponyboy's couch."

I sighed. I wasn't going to go crash at the Curtis'. Once again, to my great displeasure, I needed someone: either Two-Bit or Tim Shepard.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own Kathy or Curly or Tim.

**Every Mother's Son- Seven**

"Where am I taking you?" I asked Curly as we approached the outskirts of Tulsa. We'd both been silent most of the way back. I told him why I needed to get out of my house. We hadn't discussed the pot.

"Your place," he said.

"I told you I wasn't staying there."

"But you _are_ going back there, aren't you? You're going back after the weed. You can't do that alone. And don't even try to tell me that I ain't any good in a fight against Boone. I know that, but neither are you."

"I'll be fine, Curly. Just in and out. He won't be hanging out in broad day light."

Curly smirked. "You know how to use that heater you got in the glove box?"

I turned to glare at him. He grinned.

"I snooped," he said. "And I _do_ know how to use it."

That's not what I had heard. What I'd heard was that Curly's last turn in the reformatory was because he tried to hold up a liquor store.

"That gun jammed," he said, guessing what I was thinking. "Yours ain't jammed. It's clean."

"You checked it out? In the prison parking lot?"

He shrugged.

I mumbled that he was an idiot under my breath.

"If that's what you think," he said, "you can let me out here."

He waved his hand. We were still in the industrial park on the south side of town. Beyond it were the Soc neighborhoods. It was a hell of a walk to the Arkansas River Bridge.

"Shut up already," I told him.

I drove him downtown and stopped around the corner from him mother's house. He'd simmered down some by the time we got there.

Before he got out of the car, he asked me, "So where're you going to go?"

"Home and then to Two-Bit's," I said.

He seemed disappointed more than concerned for me. Just what I needed right then- a schoolboy with a crush.

I waved him away and he got out of the car. When he was out of sight, I opened the glove compartment. It would be just like Curly to steal the gun, or unload it, or fuck it up in some way. It appeared untouched, though. I preferred not to touch it myself, but I lifted it out of the glove compartment anyway and checked to see if it was still loaded.

There was a tap on the window. I wheeled around in my seat, aiming the gun at whoever had knocked.

Tim Shepard stepped away from the car, hands raised in surrender. He was laughing. Apparently, the idea of being accidently shot by me struck him as funny. He motioned for me to lower the gun and then made a circular gesture, indicating that I should roll the window down.

"Easy there, Calamity Jane," he said, still chuckling. "Nice reaction time, got a good grip on it, good aim, but you're going to want to pull the hammer back if you plan to shoot anything. Here…give 'er here."

"Get bent,"I told him. "You won't give it back."

"Yeah, you got me there- I probably won't. You in a hurry or you got time to give me a ride? I'll understand if you got a bank to rob before four-thirty…"

I rolled my eyes and nodded towards the passenger side. I stashed the gun in my purse again- which I'm sure he knew perfectly well- as Tim walked around to the other side of the car. He got in, still grinning, and made a shooting gesture with his fingers.

"Where do you need to go?" I asked him.

"Call it," he said and shrugged. "I just need to not be at my house for a bit, and I need to talk to you."

I knew the "get out of the house for a while" routine well enough from living with my brother. The phone would ring- one of his buddies sending word that the cops were coming by. Cal would leave me with instructions on what I was supposed to tell them, when the last time was I had seen him, who he had supposedly been with, and then he'd take off. I was an Oscar-worthy performer when it came to talking to cops. I'd never been on one of the rides trying to elude them before.

"What do you need to talk to me about?" I asked Tim.

"My brother was MIA all day today. Any idea where he was?"

"Nope."

"I suppose…I'll just have to take you at your word, then. It just seemed strange to me that he reappeared and then here you are around the corner from my house and all, but…if that's your story…"

I rolled my eyes and remained silent.

Tim waved his finger to the right as we came to a stop light.

"Let's head up north towards your neck of the woods," he said.

In my head, I cursed Curly. He'd already given me up. He'd run into his brother before or immediately upon reaching the Shepard house and he'd spilled it all- or enough of it- to Tim.

"You ain't going in that house by yourself, Quick Draw," Tim said. He tugged a pack of cigarettes out of his t-shirt pocket and reached down to push the lighter in.

Although I doubted he'd tell me the truth, I asked, "What'd Curly tell you?"

"Curly who?" Tim grinned and lit his cigarette. He took a drag and then offered it to me. "Curly said you and him went on a little ride today. I'm so very crushed that you didn't invite me along. More upset with Curly, though, over that one. I'll take that up with him later."

He paused and waited for me to plead for Curly's survival. When I didn't, he raised his eyebrows in amusement and blew smoke out the window.

"I'd have guessed it if he didn't tell me, baby. Curly's kind of a one-trick pony as far as schemes go. Basically, if I go one way he'll try to go the other. Then I got to rein him back in, save his dumb ass, clean up his mess…"

"I ain't asking you to clean up my mess, Tim," I said.

"I ain't offering. This is a different sort of visit."

I raised my eyebrows at the windshield and avoided looking at him. Suddenly my heart was beating fast and I really had to pee. He had joked and smiled his way into the car with me and now I was stuck with him. He knew I had the gun and he knew I didn't know how to handle it.

"Talk, then," I said.

He slid down in the seat and braced himself with his knee against the door. We passed a squad car at the next intersection. I hadn't seen it until we were nearly on top of it, but Tim seemed to have sensed it coming a block away.

"How were you picturing this coming down, my girl?" He asked.

"I just wanted to be rid of the weed, just what was in the house. I don't want any more. Once it's gone, it's gone and I'm done."

"You still think it's going to go down that way after your little meeting with Calvin today? You think you can pull that shit over on Boone all by your pretty little self? Because you _are _all by yourself, Reilly. Your brother's locked away and you sure as shit ain't taking my little brother along for the ride."

I couldn't decide if I hated it more when he called me 'baby' or his girl like I was some kind of plaything or when he called me 'Reilly' like I was just another one of the guys. A lump began to well up in my throat. I just shook my head and shrugged.

"Well, I'm not alone now," I said. "You're here. You told me I wasn't going in to the house alone. I assume that means you're going with me."

"Yeah, and what do you think I'm expecting to come out with, honey? You think I'm coming out of there empty-handed? I ain't doing this for your glassy-eyed looks of admiration."

"Shit," I said. I yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. I slammed on the brakes, but we hit the curb anyway. We both lurched in our seats.

"Take it easy," Tim said. "A car can be a dangerous weapon…"

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped at him. "I'm not one of your underlings. You don't get to herd me around like you do Curly. I'm in this for me, and I don't have to get your blessing on every little detail first."

He smiled out the window and pulled another cigarette out of his pack. He didn't say anything for a long time, giving me ample opportunity to get even more nervous.

"So, you got a choice to make then, princess. In this neck of the woods, it's my way or the highway. Don't make a damn bit of difference to me which one you choose, but you should know- if you choose the highway- then you and I are going to be on opposite sides. I'd be happy to take up for you since I never have thought much of Boone, but I'll leave you to him too if you don't want to play by my rules."

"Fuck you and fuck your highway, Tim," I said. It just slipped out, just as hard and easy as last night when I'd suggested to Two-Bit that we go fool around. Problem with that was, when the time came, I backed out. Two-Bit was content to fall asleep on the couch with me in the crook of his arm. Tim Shepard was not going to be content with any kind of compromise.

"My God," he said after a long pause. "I don't think I've been so turned on in my life."

"Shut up," I mumbled, but the truth of it was that I was way ahead of him there. I could smell him: a mixture of sweat and BurmaShave and that shit he drank out of a jar. He was warm enough to feel him sitting beside me. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but if he had so much as touched my hand right then I would've done anything and everything he said.

That didn't happen, though. Not with Tim Shepard.

Instead, he lit his cigarette and told me, "You're in a fire lane, kid."

"Please get out," I said.

"You're so polite, Kathy. It's adorable- the world's most polite weed dealer. You sure that's what you want?"

I gave him the finger and refused to look at him. If I had, I would have blushed. I'm sure I did, in fact, blush when he punched my arm the way he would Curly's and told me:

"Pull the hammer back next time. Do it before you go into the house. Cock it and hold it in both hands. It's small caliber but it's still got some kick. And if you fire, take off running. Don't stick around to see what kind of damage you did. Just run like hell."

I nodded and then hated myself for it. It was impossible not to be agreeable when Tim gave orders. Whether it was because I was intimidated or in love or just wanted so much for him to stay by my side and keep talking.

But that didn't happen either. Not with Tim Shepard.

He got out of the car, looked around for cops, and then walked away from me and into a corner liquor store. As he did, I saw him reach for his back pocket, but I couldn't see if it was for his wallet or for a gun.


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own The Outsiders.

**Every Mother's Son- Eight**

I was mad as hell by the time I got to my house. Maybe that's what Tim had intended- that I'd be too mad to be scared. Of course, it was him I was mad at for getting me all worked up and then leaving me anyway. I told myself that really he was afraid- just like Two-Bit was afraid- to take on Boone.

I drove down the street first. The front door of the house was closed. If Boone was around, he'd remembered to close it this time. I drove around back. When I got to the garage, it hit me for the first time all the decisions I needed to make and how fast I was going to need to make them.

The first one: the car. Should I put it in the garage? Leave it running? Go back out the alley and park around the corner? Scratch that one- if someone was in the house, either Adrian or Calvin's goon, they'd already seen me. Everyone knew my brother's damned car. It was a point of pride with him.

I pulled the car into its spot next to the garage and shut the engine off. I leaned forward and took the gun out from under the seat where I'd stashed it after running into Tim.

For whatever reason, I erred towards trusting Tim. Maybe because he was honest enough to tell me he'd turn on me if I pushed him. I reminded myself of what he'd said to me in the car and tried to flesh out the hidden meanings within it.

He expected me to go into the house. What's more, he expected someone to already be in the house ahead of me. I'd already blown my cover by pulling up in the car. The best I could do, I figured, was to pull the hammer back and be ready for Boone if I met him.

I checked the gun again, clicked the cylinder back in place, and cocked it.

Boone seemed to have a problem with closing doors. The back door was open, just a crack this time, but I'd closed it when I left. I wondered how he kept getting in. It was possible that he had a key. He and Calvin had been close enough at one time that Cal might have given him one. He spent enough time in our house that he'd had ample opportunity to swipe one. Maybe he knew how to pick locks.

I poked the door open further with my foot. I knew he was there, but still the sound of Boone's voice from the kitchen made my breath catch in my throat.

"Hey, Kathy, about time you were home," he said. He was leaning against the refrigerator, facing me and drinking a bottle of my dad's beer. He took a swallow and asked, "Whatchya got there?"

He gestured towards the gun in my hand. I drew it behind my back. Boone hissed out a laugh.

"You're supposed to point it at what's in front of you, not at what's behind. You got eyes in the back of your head, girl? You point it away and you're going to hit him."

I fell for it. I turned and looked back, and when I did, Boone lurched at me. I saw him coming from the corner of my eye and stepped away fast enough that he stumbled a little. I had trapped myself in the entryway with a doorway in each direction- the back door, the bathroom, and the open doorway to the basement. I'd never make it out the back, across the yard to the car before he caught me. There was no use shutting myself in the bathroom- he'd only kick in the door. There was no way out if I ran down the basement stairs.

I raised the gun, holding it in both hands.

Boone stopped and raised his hands above his head. He was grinning at me though.

"Come on, baby," he said. "Is that how you want to play?"

"I ain't playing around, Boone."

"You ain't shot me yet either," he said and took another step towards me. One more and he'd be in the tiny entryway with me, with the nose of the gun against his chest.

I tried another tactic: reason.

"Cal knows, Boone. He's sending someone. There's someone coming to take you out."

"Yeah, and who's that? And where is he then? Cal tell you that this morning? This afternoon? How'd he send that message- with his mind? I got other buddies in Mac, baby. They don't get phone calls until the weekend-"

He thought he had me lulled or unnerved with his tale because he cut it off then and made a grab at me. Instead of pulling the trigger, I pulled my arm away. Boone scrambled to find his footing, but it wasn't there for him. He slipped on the lip of basement stairs and fell.

I jumped back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I waited with my back against the door to hear him swearing. There was no creaking on the stairs, though, and no more taunts or threats. Just silence.

It seemed like hours before I got up the courage to open the bathroom door. When I did, I only opened it a crack and then I waited another minute, listening.

Nothing.

I opened the door and peered around the corner into the basement. Boone was still there- lying still at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, shit," I whispered to no one listening in this world.

I took a tentative step out of the bathroom, expecting him to leap up. He didn't. I looked back into the bathroom for something to throw at him. There was a bar of soap on the sink. I reached for it and thought that the sound of the creaking floorboards was from my own weight shifting.

A pair of arms wrapped around me from behind so quickly I didn't have time to draw breath. I struggled from panic and reflex, but also just to breathe. The arms squeezed me tighter. I could feel stubble against my chin when the voice spoke to me:

"Slow down, slow down, Reilly."

I could smell it on his breath then- that crap he drank out of a jar. I jerked to turn my head to the side to get at least a partial, disbelieving look at Tim.

"Who did you think he'd send?" Tim said. "Clint Eastwood? What's the saying, girl- keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

He winked at me and loosened his grip a little.

"You gonna scream?" He asked.

I shook my head. He dropped his hand from over my mouth, but kept me held tight against his chest. He figured, I guessed, that I might still try to attack him.

"Curly didn't tell you?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "Cal told me. Well, you know…Cal told someone who told someone who called me. I got friends in Mac too."

"You knew when you asked me for a ride?"

"I knew before you fuckin' left MacAlester, doll. You've tried to play me before, remember? I wanted to talk to you and see what you were planning, if it was the same line you were giving your brother."

I shrugged my way free of him. He took a step back and looked over my shoulder down into the basement.

"I guess his dancing days are over," He said, frowning.

I just nodded.

He took my arm and pulled me back behind him.

"Stay here," he said. I didn't resist when he took the gun from my hand. He started down the stairs towards Boone's silent body. I let him get about three steps ahead and then I followed.

Tim stopped. He turned back and shook his head at me.

"What is wrong with you? You think I just like to hear myself talk?"

"Sometimes, yes."

He rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs. I stopped at the second to the last stair and watched Tim circle Boone's body. Up close, I could see blood coming from a head wound. Boone's eyes were open, but no one was home.

I said, more to myself than to Tim, "I don't know how to get rid of a body."

"You ain't," Tim said. "The cops'll do that for you."

I looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"You surprised him," Tim told me. "He broke in. You came home, you surprised him and he fell down the stairs. There was no gun. There was no weed. There was most definitely no Tim. You got it?"

I nodded.

"Give me ten minutes to get out of the neighborhood and then call the cops."

I nodded again. He stood there and waited.

"What?" I asked.

"You're going to have to give it to me, Kathy," he said. "They'll search the house, mostly likely, with Cal's record. If they find the weed, they'll tack it on to whatever time he's got left. _You_ can play like you didn't know it was here, but they'll lay it on him. Sorry, baby, but you're fired from the dope-dealing business."

"You're not my boss," I said, but I knew he was right.

My shoulders sank, but I stepped around him and walked through the house. I yanked the cord to the attic stairs. Hardly any dust came down now; I'd been up and down enough. I found a carpet bag up there- one my mother didn't take when she left- and I put everything in it: the pot, the scale, the papers, and the baggies. I even gave him the twist ties.

Tim was waiting in the kitchen for me. He was leaning against the sink, taking the bullets out of my brother's gun.

He handed it back to me, unloaded. I took it from him and handed him the carpet bag. He put the bullets in my empty hand.

"Put it in your purse. They ain't going to search your purse. They'll be looking for shit they can pin on your brother."

I pocketed the bullets.

"You cool? You alright being in here with him?" He nodded towards the basement stairs.

I shrugged and told him, "I'll call and then I'll wait on the porch."

"Cool," he said, and that was it. He winked at me and walked out my back door with my college money, my freedom, and my grand adventure zipped up tight in a bag my mother had deemed unworthy.

I closed the door behind him and then I went back into the kitchen. I checked the clock above the stove, waited 10 minutes, and then called the police.


	9. Chapter 9

I do not own anyone named Kathy or The Outsiders.

** Every Mother's Son- Nine **

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

My dad had asked me about fifty times already over the course of his weekly phone call. He was in Iowa at the time- too far away and too broke to get home quick when I told him about Boone and the break-in. I told him the cops were still stopping by. The neighbors were checking in.

"I'll be alright, Daddy," I told him. "Two-Bit's here. He'll sleep on the couch."

Two-Bit, seated at the kitchen table, looked up at me and cocked his eyebrow. He mouthed the words _the couch?_ at me incredulously. I flipped him off.

I said goodbye to my dad and sat down across the table from Two-Bit. I must have had a funny smile on my face. He smiled back, but then he popped that eyebrow up and looked perplexed.

He said to me, "You look strangely calm for someone who not so long ago came home to a dead hood in her basement."

I shrugged. I didn't feel calm. For the last two nights, I'd thrashed around in my bed dreaming of Tim with his arms around me. I could smell him in my dream. I could feel the stubble from his chin and then his lips on my neck, but when I'd turn to kiss him back, he'd push me down the stairs towards Boone's dead body. I didn't know what that meant, and I didn't want to tell Two-Bit all about how I wasn't dreaming about him.

"I was just thinking about what to do now," I told him instead. "A lot of possibilities. I'm not sure what I want to do."

"Want to go to Benny's?" He asked. "Truth told- it kind of gives me the creeps being here."

"You want me to hire an exorcist to come in? Give the place the spiritual once-over?"

He grinned. "You'd do that for me?"

"For both of us," I said, rolling my eyes. "God forbid Boone should finally get his wish of watching me shower."

I told Two-Bit that I needed to take a shower if we were going to go anywhere. He insisted I looked fine but caved to my suggestion that he watch TV for a few minutes.

"You ain't going to spend an hour getting all dolled up, are you?" He shouted to me from the front room.

"I'm sorry- have we met?" I called back, and then his comment began to dig at me: was he just teasing or was it a subtle suggestion that I should get all dolled up for him? I couldn't enjoy my shower after that for thinking about it.

* * *

"I wish I knew more girls," I mused to him on our way downtown.

"Yeah, me too…Why don't you?"

"Girls never liked to come over to my house before. My brother and his buddies creeped 'em out," was my excuse.

During that last year in high school I had come to the conclusion that there could be no good between women. I used to have female friends, but I let them go. They were insecure or crazy or deceitful and I acted much the same when I was with them. I never considered myself a tomboy. I just came to a place where I didn't like to hang out with women.

Because of this, the selection of people I could hang out with dwindled. Hanging out exclusively with boys branded me a slut by those who assumed I slept around or a tease by those who were surprised to find out that I didn't.

More and more I had found myself alone, watching from the sidelines. I could only admit to myself that I envied Tim's girl who shot up between her toes. I didn't have anyone else to admit it to. From my vantage point on the fringes, I fancied Tim and myself to be a lot alike. He was on the edge too, although it was his status as a shot-caller that put him there. People followed Tim and did what he told them, but no one got close.

I daydreamed that I could get close.

Instead, I got Two-Bit. He could put up a wall with the best of us- I could see it in him, so I threw up my hands when he asked me out that first time. We frustrated each other. I didn't know how to have fun, he said. He didn't know how to be a boyfriend, I complained. He thrived on chaos and all that gang bullshit. He'd drop me like a hot rock at the first indication of a rumble or if those little Curtis boys needed babysitting. We never officially broke up. He just wandered off and I didn't follow. When something big happened- like Boone dying in my basement- Two-Bit would reappear and want to protect me.

He was a little late, but the sentiment amused me.

"You still going to take college classes?" He asked. "Maybe you'll meet different girls there."

It was sweet of him to suggest it. I knew Two-Bit was scared shitless that I'd go to college and meet a different kind of boy.

"Yeah, I don't know about that," I said.

I didn't have the money anymore. Since Tim had waltzed out of my house with Calvin's weed, I'd tried to push the idea of college out of my head. I had decided to make the best of it and give being domestic an honest shot. Two-Bit practically living with me made for good practice.

"Son of a bitch…" he muttered.

I looked up. We had turned on to Benny's block, but the parking spots in front were filled with police cars all with their lights on and flashing.

Two-Bit arched his back and pulled his blade out of his back pocket. He reached across me to toss it in the glove compartment.

"You holdin', ma'am?" He asked me, grinning. "Any outstanding warrants?"

I shook my head.

"Wanna go see?" He asked, but he was already parking the car. He couldn't resist.

"Behave yourself," I told him as we got out.

"When do I not behave myself?"

"Just keep your mouth shut."

He pantomimed zipping his lips and straightened himself into a stiff and dignified pose. I took his arm and we crossed the street.

Two-Bit's buddy Steve Randle was hanging on the outside edge of the crowd. Two-Bit steered us towards him.

"What's going on?" He asked Steve.

"Hell if I know. The place just blew up. Shepards and those Devilhawk assholes…Devilhawks, Devilfish, Devil's Eye Teeth…whatever the hell they call themselves."

Two-Bit and Steve carried on like that- going back and forth with their alternate names for the Devilhawks gang members. I dropped Two-Bit's hand and pushed my way through the crowd.

There was glass everywhere on the sidewalk in front of the pool hall. I could hear Benny inside fretting and cussing about it. It looked like someone had gone through the window.

It must have been a Devilhawk because it wasn't Tim Shepard. The door to Benny's opened and a cop pushed Tim through. He herded him to a spot on the wall next to the gaping window and told him to stand there and wait.

Tim saw me watching and jerked his head. I took a tentative couple of steps towards him.

"You got a light?" He asked me.

I fished a lighter out of my purse. He took his own pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, shook one out for himself, and then offered one to me.

"Here- this is yours," he said in a low voice. Along with the cigarette between his fingers were two folded fifty dollar bills. "I had to take a hell of cut to unload it so quick. I know it ain't what you were expecting to get."

"I wasn't expecting to get anything."

He shrugged and poked his fingers at me until I took the money.

"This is between you and me. Your brother thinks I took it as payment for taking care of Boone. You took care of Boone yourself, so it's yours. We'll split it. I get half for taking it off your hands. Alright?"

I nodded.

"And making a measly hundred dollars ought to be enough to deter you from ever trying it again."

I shrugged and looked behind me to make sure Two-Bit and Steve were still entertaining one another.

Tim lit his cigarette.

He shook his head, saying, "Ah, shit, come on, girl. Say the words. Put my cold, black heart at ease, will you?"

I laughed at that.

"I'm not sure this is such a deterrent, Shepard. I got _something_ out of it in the end. Really, I'm feeling motivated."

"Shit," he hissed. "Say you're done, kid. You never even sold anything and now you got nothing to sell. You made a guy fall down a flight of stairs. Al Capone you ain't. Quit while you're ahead."

I couldn't help myself: "Say 'please', Shepard."

He smirked. "Fuck yourself, Reilly."

"Well, then, I guess we don't have a deal, do we? If you'll excuse me, I have a future to invest in…"

"Reilly-" He said, but I nodded towards Benny's doorway. The cop was coming back and I could tell by the look on his face that I was about to get shooed away.

"Shepard, what did I tell you?" The policeman asked, spinning Tim around to face the wall.

"To stand here," Tim said. "Do I get a cookie?"

"All's you're getting, son, is a free ride to County and a week's worth of bologna sandwiches. You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. For all of our sake, please exercise that right. Anything you say…"

Tim winked at me. He lowered his eyes towards the half-smoked cigarette in his mouth.

"May I?" I asked the cop.

He nodded and I took Tim's cigarette.

"She's so polite," Tim said. "Ain't she just adorable? You'd never suspect under all those manners and that refined exterior…"

"Did I not just ask you to remain silent?" The officer said.

"I thought it was more of a suggestion…"

The policeman cuffed Tim and pulled him away from the wall.

"Tell the lady goodnight," he told Tim.

"You going to use that against me?"

I leaned back against the wall. I took a drag off of Tim's cigarette and watched them go through the smoke. Tim didn't tell me goodnight. Just before the officer ducked his head and guided him into the back seat of the squad car, he paused and looked me over one more time. Then he rolled his eyes, shook his head, and put me out of his mind.

I waved back "peace, brother" with his cigarette between my two fingers.

Whether he didn't believe I'd try to give him a run or if he didn't believe yet that I was worth the worry, who knew? Either way, he was wrong on both counts. I told myself he already liked me enough that he wouldn't be able to resist playing along.

**The End, Part 1**

a/n: I'm not sure how many parts there will be. I'm thinking along the lines of writing these like seasons in a tv series. So, six and a movie- I think is the way it goes. Thank you for playing along. The reads, reviews and your patience are appreciated.


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